


Regret

by Marrilyn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Apologies, Blood, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort, Comforting Sam, Concerned Rowena, Crying, Desperation, F/F, Friendship, Graphic Description of Injuries, Holding Hands, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Lies, Other, Pain, Regret, Serious Injuries, Sobbing, Tears, Worry, worried Rowena
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 07:37:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14515539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marrilyn/pseuds/Marrilyn
Summary: Reader lies to Rowena and goes on a hunt with Sam and Dean, only to need her when she gets seriously injured.





	Regret

Everything had been going well up until you let your guard down and got yourself mauled by a rabid beast.

A _supernatural_ rabid beast that had killed ten people in twelve days and had every intention on making you its eleventh victim. The monster had gnawed and clawed at you as if you were a piece of meat, its sharp teeth and talons tearing into your flesh like razors. The attack had lasted barely a minute, but the pain coursing through your veins and sending every single nerve in your body into overdrive made it feel as if the beast had been using you as its plaything for hours.

The defensive spells you'd prepared dissipated into oblivion; the only sounds that had been successful to leave your mouth were glass-shattering screams echoing throughout the forest.

Had Sam and Dean not appeared as soon as you started screeching, you would have been dead meat.

Going by the amount of pain you were in, a part of you _wished_ you were dead meat.

Holding back tears was pointless. As soon as the brothers kneeled beside you, each on one side, and started inspecting the gravity of your injuries, you fell apart into weeps. The skin on your chest and arms was torn almost to the bone. Blood seeped out in what seemed like gallons, drenching your clothes. You were shaking, and once your sobs quieted down enough for you to be able to hear what the brothers were saying, you found out it wasn't because you were crying.

Shock was a bitch.

Sam ended up having to carry you to the car, your legs too weak to support you in the condition you were in. Every little movement hurt. You squeezed your eyes shut, urging your mind to focus on anything but the pain. _Bunnies. Kittens. Baby hedgehogs._ All lovely thoughts, and all overshadowed by the overwhelming ache, like a demon crawling up inside of you and taking over the entirety of your being. Sam instructed you to try to control your breathing, but it was hard to focus on your lungs when the rest of your body felt like it was on fire.

Was that how Rowena felt when Lucifer burned her?

_Rowena…_

More tears fell as pictures of the red-haired witch filled your brain. She was going to be _so_ mad when she found out about what happened. About what you had done.

_Oh, god!_

You wailed on the entire ride to the bunker. Sam rode with you in the backseat and let you lay your head in his lap. He took your hand in support and you squeezed it with all the strength you had left. But no matter how strongly you held on and how much you sobbed, the pain wasn't lessening.

All the words you wanted to say — wanted to shout — got stuck in your throat, unable to break free through your cries and frantic breaths. All except for one.

"Rowena!"

You needed her. It didn't matter if she was mad or called you names. You needed her beside you, needed her to hold your hand and tell you that everything would be okay. The only way you would believe it was if it came from her. Sam and Dean could utter words of comfort all they wanted; they offered only temporary relief. You needed to hear them from _her._

"We'll call her when we get to the bunker," Sam assured you.

You nodded in acknowledgment of his promise, but you doubted he could see it through your trembling. You kept calling for her — begging for her — all the way to the bunker. Even as Sam lowered you on the bed in one of the guest rooms and he and Dean huddled around you to help you get comfortable — as comfortable as possible, given your condition — it was Rowena's name you called.

 _I'm sorry,_ you thought. Your hands gripped the white sheets so tight that your knuckles took on their color. _I need you. Rowena, please. I need you!_

The brothers exchanged a few words, but you couldn't hear them, thoughts of your girl overriding your sense of hearing, loud, thundering, like screams echoing inside your head. Then Dean exited the room and you were left alone with Sam, who looked at you with a face full of compassion mixed with pity — a look Rowena would probably be offended by.

"You're gonna be okay," he said. The certainty in his voice almost made you believe him. _Almost._

"Rowena," you whimpered, swallowing a lump that had formed in your throat. "I need Rowena."

"Dean went to call her," Sam said.

He looked down at your trembling form, eyes glued to your chest and arms that were wrapped up in makeshift bandages made out of old shirts the brothers had found in the trunk of their car. The bleeding had stopped by now, but the bandages, as well as your clothing, were drenched in caked blood. The fabric clung to your body like second skin. The air smelled like coins, and you had no doubt that the entirety of you smelled the same.

"Rowena," you repeated weakly.

"She'll be here. I promise," Sam said.

He gently unwrapped the fabric from your wounds and frowned, then his face twisted with sympathy. You let him remove the remainder of your torn up shirt to get a better look at your injuries. For such a huge, scary-looking man, he was surprisingly gentle. He peeled the blood-caked cloth with utmost care, and while being touched still hurt, you did your best to hold back any screams that had built up in your throat. He was helping you. The least you could do was make his job easier.

He left the room for a short while, and when he returned, her was armed with a bowl of water and a bag which you assumed contained first aid supplies. You felt exposed, lying there in a bra, parts of which were torn up just like your shirt. Sam had let you keep it, and you were grateful for that little bit of dignity you had left.

"Take this." His voice snapped you from your thoughts. Looking up, you found him towering over you, a white, circular pill laying in his outstretched palm. "It's a painkiller," he explained, taking notice of confusion sprawled across your face.

He carefully pulled you up into a sitting position, his free hand wrapped around your back from support. The movement sent jolts of pain through you, burning from your injuries to the rest of you like a surge of lightning through your body. You hissed, holding back a shriek, and Sam was quick to whisper words of comfort.

Taking a breath, you raised a trembling hand and let him drop the pill into your palm. While you were bringing it to your mouth, Sam grabbed a glass of water and held it to your lips. Your hands wrapped around it to, at the very least, make you feel like you were helping. Being injured was one thing. Being so weak and shaking so hard that you couldn't even hold a glass of water was something completely different. As if it wasn't enough that you'd let the hunter undress you; you were forced to let him help you drink, as well.

You had nothing against Sam — excluding his very possible murder of your girlfriend sometime in the future. He was good, for a hunter. He wouldn't take advantage of your weakness or harm you when you haven't done anything, simply because you were a witch — something that couldn't be said for most hunters. But to have him help you do the bare necessities was humiliating. You were an adult, and a powerful witch at that. You should have been able to drink on your own.

Then again, it _had_ been your fault you'd found yourself in this situation. It it wasn't for your lies, you and Rowena could have been helping out on this case together. With her there, that monster would have never snuck up on you.

Maybe it would have snuck up on her.

You shook the thought out of your head. Rowena was too smart and too powerful to let something as pesky as an animal get the better of her. She would have wiped the floor with it without even having to lift a finger.

Laying back down on the bed, your eyes filled with tears. You could take this. You could take the pain, no matter how long it took your wounds to heal. You could take anything — _anything_ — as long as Rowena remained safe.

But if fucking _hurt!_

A wail ripped from you before you had time to swallow it down.You couldn't do this. Not only were you a liar, but you were also a coward. A real witch would have looked the pain in the eyes and laughed at it. She wouldn't cry like a baby. Rowena had gone through worse; she'd been blinded, had her skull crushed, and had been set on fire while still clinging to life. It left her traumatized, but not even she wailed like a banshee when memories came rushing back and nightmares disturbed her dreams. She cried, but she remained strong. Powerful. Prideful.

None of which you had in you. You were just a girl who needed her lover to make all the bad go away.

And you didn't feel a shred of shame for it.

"Hey, it's okay. The pill will kick in anytime now," Sam said, his voice surprisingly soothing.

"I need Rowena," you wept. Tears pooled in your eyes, staining your vision. It was like looking through a window that hadn't been washed in years, the dust and grime that had settled on its surface making it barely see-through. A few tears slid down your face. Your cheeks burned redder, hotter, as if flushed by a fever.

If only it was a fever. It would have been easier to handle.

"She's probably on her way," Sam said.

"I need her." Desperation dripped from your voice like venom down a snake's fangs. If only she were here to hold your hand. If only she were here to wrap her arms around you and hold you against her, where it was safe and warm, where pain couldn't get to you. If only she were here to simply look at you in that sweet way of hers and give you that smile that always shined a streak of light into the darkness around you.

"I know," Sam said. You could tell from his tone that he was telling the truth. He understood your need for company of the person you loved — the only person in your life that would never betray you. You could be weak in front of her without fear of being betrayed or taken advantage of. Rowena would never harm you; not back when she was hiding behind a distant, heartless mask she'd sewn around herself over centuries of hardship, and especially not now that she finally let herself feel. "She'll be here. I promise."

"She'll hate me," you squeaked, and another whine broke free. "Sam, she'll hate me."

"No, she won't. This wasn't your fault."

You shook your head. "I lied to her." A pang of pain shot through your heart at the memory, like an arrow piercing straight through the racing muscle.

"What do you mean?"

"She wasn't away," you said, then took a few breaths to compose yourself. "When you called, she was there. I lied."

"Why?" Sam asked with a frown.

"I didn't… I didn't want her to be around you."

His confusion grew. "Around me? Why?" He almost seemed offended.

"I didn't want her to die."

And with that you broke down into sobs. Ever since you'd found out that Sam had been the one fated to kill Rowena, your overprotective instincts kicked in — the same instincts that, after she'd come back from death at Lucifer's hands a year ago, urged you to hover over her like a mother hen and have your eye on her at all times. _All_ times. Reason all but forgotten, only one thing burned in your mind — keeping Rowena alive. And if that meant telling the hunter brothers she wasn't home and offering to assist them in her place, so be it.

Comprehension dawned on Sam like a gust of wind to his face. His expression softened, and suddenly he looked more like a parent worried about their sick child than a hunter prophesied to kill a witch. "I'm not gonna kill her."

Not on purpose, no. But a lot of things could happen. A hunt could go wrong, or a gun full of witch-killing bullets may fire all on its own, and bam! Rowena would be no more. "It could be an accident."

Sam shook his head. "She's safe with me. I have no intention of killing her, accident or not. I swear." You believed him, but at the same time, you didn't. The risk was too great to ignore. "We're gonna change her fate."

"You can't promise that!" you snapped.

He lowered his head in defeat. You were right; he couldn't promise Rowena's fate would be changed. He could try to change it, but he couldn't be one-hundred percent sure that he would be able to. No one could.

"I told her it was a family emergency," you said in a tad lower voice, as more tears fell down your face. Guilt tore at you like wildfire, hot and strong. "She's gonna be so mad!"

"She'll understand," Sam told you.

Would she?

Maybe. Despite what everyone thought of her, Rowena could be incredibly loving. But at the same time, she hated being treated like a child. Not only have you lied to her, but you'd also gotten yourself into trouble. Your almost died. If she wasn't angry about the lies, she would be about that.

Suddenly, a wave of calmness washed over you. Your tense muscles relaxed, and you realized that the pain in your arms and chest subsided, almost completely gone. You could still feel the torn up skin, but instead of pain, there was numbness, a tingling alike that of an army of ants marching over and underneath your wounds. Your eyes fell half-closed, and you suddenly found yourself in a tired daze.

Whatever Sam had given you was strong. You made a mental note to ask him what it was later.

"You okay?" the hunter in question asked, noticing your sudden stillness.

You nodded. "The painkiller's working."

"Good. That's good." Sam flashed a small smile. "Now I can stitch you up."

You groaned. You were dreading that part. "Is it gonna hurt?"

"Yeah, but not as much as before," he replied honestly.

At least there was that. "Oh, god—"

"Where is she?!"

Your eyes snapped wide open and Sam flinched at the sound of the familiar voice booming from the hallway. The two of you exchanged a look, then your eyes settled on the door. Waiting.

Rowena had arrived. And, just as you'd predicted, she was worried out of her mind. Worried and loud. Very loud. Was she angry? Your heartbeat fastened at the thought, and then your fear melted into a sense of safety, warmth filling up your heart like a shot of adrenaline straight to the vein. Your girl was here. There was nothing to be afraid of anymore. Everything was going to be okay.

Dean said something you couldn't hear, probably telling her you were in the guest room and that you weren't in danger as much as you were in pain, and then two sets of rushing footsteps sounded in the hallway, growing louder by each passing second.

When the door opened, you let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding. Rowena's eyes found you right away. She froze in place as she took in the sight of your lying form, shirtless, exposed skin and pants drenched in dried up blood. Her gaze focused on your injuries which, now that the painkiller had, well, _killed_ the majority of the pain, looked much worse than they actually were.

"What the _bloody hell_ happened?!" she demanded, the threat in her voice matching her deadly glare. It took you a moment to realize that she wasn't directing it at you. The green in her eyes flashed a furious purple. Her gaze bounced from one brother to the other, threatening — and more than willing to act on said threat — bloody murder.

"She, uh, got attacked," Sam responded, nervously shuffling his feet.

Rowena narrowed her eyes. "Who was it?" Her voice lowered to a dangerous whisper, almost a hiss, words seeping venom that could kill by simply being heard.

"A monster," Dean replied. "We took care of it."

If they hadn't, you wouldn't be lying here, aching for her presence like a junkie craving their high.

"What kind of monster?" Rowena asked, a tad calmer now that she knew that the thing who'd done this to you was dead. Had that not been the case, it wouldn't have stayed amongst the living for much longer. She was as protective of you as you were of her. Not many knew that — that is, until they dared to lay a hand on you. Hell hath no fury like Rowena MacLeod in protective mode.

"It was a—"

"Rowena." Her name fell from your lips in a helpless whimper, cutting Dean off. She turned to you, eyes finally reaching yours, the purple in them fading into a calm, soothing green, like a forest in Spring thriving with life.

"I'm here, darling," she said tenderly, like a mother tending to a child. She was at your side immediately, pushing past the startled Sam and taking hold of your outstretched hand.

Have you not been badly injured — and sedated by the painkiller — you would have leapt into her arms and held on for dear life.

"You're going to be fine."

In that exact moment you knew that you would be. Rowena's words carried a promise, an oath as powerful as one sealed with blood. If she said it, it couldn't be a lie. You took a few breaths, her words, spoken in that charming brogue, a lullaby to your ears, soothing your worst fears. Her hand was warm, fingers threaded through yours as gentle as her voice. Her touch urged your trembling body to still, to ease into the bed despite the discomfort in your wounded upper body. She was like a tranquilizer in human form, with no bad side effects and plenty of benefits — like making your heart flutter with love rather than fear.

"Stay with me," you said. You knew she would never leave you, but you needed to be sure.

"I'm not going anywhere," Rowena promised, and you sighed in relief. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," you replied.

"Are you hurting?"

You shook your head, and Sam elaborated. "I gave her a painkiller."

"Good," Rowena said with a nod.

"I was just going to stitch her up."

"That won't be necessary," the witch said, waving him off.

Another relieved sigh left your mouth. You hated stitches, hated _needles_ anywhere near your skin. It didn't matter how helpful they were; they were a nightmare.

Sam looked flabbergasted. "Are you sure? These wounds are pretty bad."

"Aye. I've got everything I need." Rowena motioned towards the bag she'd left by the door. She turned back to you. "I'm going to take real good care of you, dear. You will be up and running in no time."

You squeezed her hand in acknowledgment of her words. You were familiar with her potions and other magical healing supplies. It had taken her weeks to heal the burns inflicted on her by Lucifer. Had it not been for her witchy medicine, she would have gone insane from the pain.

"Could we get some privacy, please?" Rowena asked, eyeing Sam and Dean.

"Uh, sure," Sam said. He headed out, then stopped on the doorstep. "If you need anything, shout."

Rowena nodded, gratitude splattered over her face like paint. "I will." Her expression softened. "Sam, Dean? Thank you."

The brothers nodded, shooting her smiles, then exited the room and closed the door behind them.

"Let's make you better now, shall we?" Rowena said with a smile. She went to fetch her bag, and you stiffened as her hand released yours, the distance, no matter how short, sending a painful ache through your heart. You didn't want to part with her, not even for a bit.

"Rowena?"

"Yes, dear?" She sat her bag on the bedside table and started rummaging through it.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Lying to you." New, guilty tears brimmed in your eyes. Not only had you lied; you were careless and had almost gotten yourself killed. You had no issue with dying, if that meant Rowena would be safe. But you had still been dishonest with her. You had still worried her. No matter how noble your intentions were, they'd still caused her pain.

"We'll talk about that later," Rowena said as she took a potion and a package of homemade healing salve — made by her personally two days ago — and put them down beside the bag.

You shook your head. She was taking care of you _now._ The least she deserved was an apology for your bad behavior. "I'm really sorry."

"I know you are." The smile on her mouth told you she was genuine. She held up a potion. "Drink this."

You let her hold you up and laid your hand on top of hers as she brought the potion to your lips. You scrunched your face at the bittersweet taste, but downed the liquid in a long, slow gulp up to the very last drop. The best of medicines always tasted horrible, be they human or magical. It was an unwritten rule.

Your hand remained on hers as you laid back down, unwilling to let go. "Are you mad?"

Rowena stared at you. After a few moments she sighed. "I _was._ But seeing you like this… I couldn't stay mad for long."

You appreciated her honesty. "I just wanted to keep you safe."

"That's not your job. I'm a big girl, Y/N. I can take care of myself."

"Not on your own."

"And what about you? You almost _died!"_ she exclaimed.

"I'm gonna be fine."

"If not for the Winchesters, you would be far from fine!"

"If not for the Winchesters, I wouldn't even be here!" you snapped. Tears fell freely down your face. You had neither strength nor will to hold them back anymore.

Rowena frowned. "What is this about?" she asked, tone lighter, softer.

"You know what it's about."

"I don't. Tell me."

A sob broke from your mouth, words of Rowena's sealed fate echoing in your head, flooding your mind, then your entire body, with dread that hurt just as badly now as it had the day those words had first reached your ears. "I can't let him kill you," you whimpered through tears, swallowing more sobs that welled up in your throat. "I won't."

Rowena looked confused for a moment. Then the reality of your words downed on her. "Samuel?"

You nodded. "I can't lose you again."

"You won't. I'm not going anywhere." Her free hand cupped your cheek. You leaned into her palm, relishing in the tenderness of her touch. Rowena's eyes stared into yours with determination you'd only seen once before — when she'd promised to get her revenge on Lucifer. "Samuel is _not_ going to kill me. Fate can be changed. Nothing's set in stone."

"You can't promise that," you echoed what you'd told Sam earlier. If she could, you wouldn't be nearly as scared. Rowena's promises always came true, otherwise she wouldn't give them.

"You're right. I can't," she allowed. "What I _can_ promise is that I will do everything in my power to change it. And so will Samuel."

"What if there's an accident?" They could affect conscious acts. Accidents, not to much.

Rowena was quick to voice that. "We can't affect that."

Your heart sank, your worst fears sinking in, dawning on you like a strong, deadly punch to the face. It hurt even worse. "Then you should stay away from him. Just in case."

She sighed. "When has running from my problems resulted in anything good?"

She had a point. She'd been on the run from the British Men of Letters, and, years ago, they'd managed to get the better of her and captured her. She'd hidden herself from Lucifer, and he had managed to find her and had murdered her in a way that left a permanent mark on her soul. Sam may not be after her, but accidental meetings were more than possible, especially when fate was involved. If evil was going to strike, she couldn't escape it.

"I just want you to live," you finally said

"And I will," Rowena said. A small smile crept up on her lips. It was one of the genuine ones, no hint of deceit or false pretenses underneath it. Just an honest smile that lit up her face and had somehow made her look even more beautiful. You didn't know how that was possible; Rowena was the most beautiful woman you had ever laid your eyes on. Smiles that came from the heart had only magnified it. "I will do my best to live."

That was the closest to the promise of living that you could get.

"Be careful," you whispered weakly. You were tired; tired from hurting, from crying, from worrying about Rowena. Your body felt numb, the potion you'd drank slowly taking effect, adding to the painkiller's welcome sedation. All you wanted to do was curl up into Rowena and sleep for at least a week.

Unfortunately, given the severity of your injuries, you wouldn't be curling up for a while.

Rowena nodded, another silent promise you knew she would keep. "You, too. I don't want you putting yourself in danger for me," she said in her mom tone, the one she used whenever she wanted you to do exactly what she told you.

"I'll try," you said. She raised an eyebrow. You sighed, defeated. "Fine."

But if she were in danger in front of your eyes, you wouldn't just stand aside and watch.

And she knew that.

Flashing another smile, Rowena leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. She stepped away to grab the healing salve, and you pouted, already missing her touch. Unscrewing the lid, she sat next to you on the bed and helped you sit up. It was difficult to get your nearly limp body to move, but you managed it. This was for your own good. Rowena would not have asked you to do it if it wasn't absolutely necessary.

You groaned as she wetted the cloth Sam had left earlier, cleaning the crusted blood off and around your wounds. It felt like someone was tugging at your ripped skin; there was no pain, but no painkiller or potion could take away the discomfort of having your wounds basically scraped of the crimson crust covering them. Rowena had done her best to be as gentle as possible. You appreciated her efforts, however uncomfortable you still were. She was trying, and that accounted for a lot.

Once she was done scrubbing your injuries clean, she started rubbing the cleaning salve over them. Her tiny fingers massaged your wounded skin, light as a feather, a gentle caress contrasting the near roughness of the cloth. You found yourself relaxing, even as the tugging sensation continued. The salve was cool against your skin, soothing your tense nerves. There was comfort in knowing Rowena had made it herself. You were absolutely certain that it, along with her potion, would significantly speed up your recovery. A witch of Rowena's caliber could produce nothing but the very best.

"There you go," she said as she put away the salve and started bandaging you up. She made sure the bandages held on, wrapping them firmly, but not too tightly to cause discomfort — or, once the painkiller and potion wore off, pain. Once you were fully taken care of, she laid you down and pulled a blanket over your weakened form.

"Thank you," you said.

"There's no need to thank me, darling," Rowena said, smile firmly back on her red-painted mouth. "Get some sleep. It will help."

You nodded. "Will you stay with me?"

"Of course, dear," she said without a moment's hesitation. She crawled on the bed and laid on her side beside you. Your hand emerged out from under the covers and grabbed hold of hers. Having her close wasn't enough. You needed to _feel_ her.

"Promise you won't leave?"

"I promise."

You smiled. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Now sleep." She laid another kiss to your cheek. Then, her lips brushing against your ear, her warm breath lingering over your skin, she whispered, _"Somnia."_

The purple in her eyes was the last thing you saw before the welcome darkness of dreams took you over.

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by my lovely friend OswinTheStrange.
> 
> Thanks to my friends rowdyhooligan, UltimateFandomTrash, and mrs_jughead_jones_iii for helping me decide on the proper rating for this story.


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